


Ghosts from Our Collective Pasts: The Psyche & Psychical Phenomena: A Study of Spectres and Symbolic Sisterhood

by kalikoke



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Road Trips, bustin' makes me feel good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:42:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalikoke/pseuds/kalikoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We begin in New York City, after the events of the Fourth Cataclysm. </p>
<p>A strange string of apparations forces the Ghostbusters to hop into the Ecto-1 and drive across (half of) the United States and into the Midwest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts from Our Collective Pasts: The Psyche & Psychical Phenomena: A Study of Spectres and Symbolic Sisterhood

**Author's Note:**

> *We, the Ghostbusters, formerly known as Conductors of the Metaphysical Examination/The Metaphysical Examination Society and Abby's personal favorite, "Ghostbitches" (which could seriously be the name of our all-girls hip hop group STOP SHAKING YOUR HEAD ERIN YOU KNOW YOU LOVE IT), present to you here a raw account of the events of the past month, culminating in an 18-hour drive in a repurposed hearse.*

# A Sometimes Brief, Probably Extraneous Body of Text that Goes Before the Actual Plot Begins, Often as a Way to Present Foreshadowing or Some Other Stuff: Otherwise Known as a Prologue (Or is it really a first chapter?)[1]

“It catches ghosts..and it transports them somewhere else. I don’t know where, uhm, but I have a _feeling_ it’s Michigan.”

Erin and Abby exchanged a look. That wasn’t quite where they would have expected such a contraption to take entities, but knowing Holtz, it made sense. Sort of. Not really? But we’ll take it.

“Well, it looks awesome, Holtzmann!” Abby exclaimed, giving her a thumbs up.

Erin, while impressed, had some pressing questions (and not just about the choice of fashioning a spectral containment unit after a bear trap). “I’m sorry, did you say _Michigan_?”

But before Holtz could really answer (or Erin could elaborate on why she was particularly concerned that such a thing would transport spectral entities to a state in the upper Midwest), Abby had walked over to the machine on their right.

“Hey, how’s this containment unit, huh? You got that up and running?” Abby smiled.

_I wonder_ , Erin thought, _how many OSHA standards that containment unit alone violated_? 

What was it Holtzmann’s mentor had said? Oh yes, that it was “reckless”. 

Holtzmann had even laughed that the whole thing was “completely unstable.” 

Erin questioned then, and continues to question, the molecular stability and perhaps even structural integrity of Holtzmann’s brilliant and incredibly destructive innovations. 

It would be just over a month before this all came back to haunt them. (Pun intended, Erin would like to add).

Reports of the Class VI apparation first surfaced over their dinner of Chinese food from Abby’s “favorite” (used loosely here) Chinese takeout place.

But, just to clarify, this news did not _literally_ surface over that terrible takeout. Nor did it do so _figuratively_[2].

There was, to be clear, no such entity floating above the General Tso’s chicken that was overloaded with MSG and soy sauce and the (very dry, probably overcooked) fried rice that came with it. Nor was there anything possessing the egg rolls to pester the living with its freezer-burned fillings (though Patty says the crab-or rather, crap- rangoons did give her stomach a fright that night; she still feels a lingering burn haunt one of her orifices. And not the one you’d think, either).[3]

It was a long day of bustin’ ghosts. 

They hung their proton packs up, one by one, with a bit of struggle. Having those things on your back all day long was like carrying 10 babies. If you were carrying elephant babies, that is. Who had all eaten lead.

“Alright,” Holtzmann huffed, apparently out of breath, “I think I need to make these a little lighter?”

Patty glared, massaging her own back. “Ya think, Holtzy?”

A grumble reverberated through the room.

Erin felt her hairs stand on edge. “Uhm, what was that?”

The grumble repeated, more voluminous. Erin scanned the room, trying frantically to trace the source of the sound. Her eyes landed on the containment unit that they’d put down near Patty’s desk. Ectoplasm seeped out. Could it be..?

“Oh sorry, that was me. Bustin’ makes me want food, I guess,” Abby chuckled. “So. Anyone up for Chinese?”

“Again? This the 3rd night in a row, Abby!”

Seriously. This was New York City. They had their pick of Chinese restaurants. Why choose one that was consistently rated 1.5 out of 5 stars on Yelp? 

“They’re the only ones who deliver this late; and besides, we have discounts now.”

Abby whipped out the paper menus and fanned them out. 

But yeah, they settled on Zhu’s. Again.

Between paper plates being passed around, tablecloths being spread, they agreed that there would be no work talk during dinner. No talk of ghosts, especially ones they had just captured, and _especially_ if discussion of said ghosts evoked memories of slime sliding down in someone’s down under.

“Guys, there’s a reboot of _Back to the Future_ coming out next year,” Holtzmann practically squealed, flailing her free hand about (the other one held onto dear life to her phone). “And get this: it’s going to be an all women cast! Well, mostly. The main characters, anyway.”

Patty had never seen Holtzmann so excited over _any_ movie, at least not to this extent (it was a fairly contained excitement if she was being honest; contained meaning nothing had been set on fire, accidentally or otherwise), so she couldn’t help but share in the enthusiasm. 

“All women, huh? Kind of like us!” Patty nodded her head a couple times.

“Plus Kevin,” Erin interjected. 

Abby shook her finger, pointing at Kevin’s desk. “Right, right. Don’t forget Kevin. He’s family, too.”

“Aww yiss. They casted [some actresses famous for their comedic work.]”

But Holtzmann’s excitement faded the longer she scrolled through her phone. “Hoo boy.”

“Uh, you alright there, Holtzmann?”

“What’s wrong, baby?” Patty rubbed Holtzy’s shoulder.

“Blurgh. Filming hasn’t even started and these knuckleheads are already grumping on the movie. And on the actresses!” She planted her head, face-down, on the table.

With her head still down, she projected one arm towards the other women, and shook the phone in their faces.

“These sound an awful lot like that one guy who wrote ‘Aint no witches gonna hunt no ghosts’ on our first video.”

“It was bitches, Erin. Bitches.”

“Sorry, bitches.”

“Holtz, baby, listen,” Patty took hold of both of Holtzmann’s shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “ _We’ve_ been shit on and even _spit_ on-”

“That was SO gross, by the way,” Erin muttered. “I really don’t…why am I always? I..ugh.” She was a magnet for bodily fluids, clearly.

“We’ve even had our own share of internet hate. Just look at the comments on our blog after we captured that first hellion-I mean, spectral entity. People calling us all sorts of names, telling us to go to hell, get slapped with someone’s..you know what. It got to a point where I had to turn off ALL commenting.”

“Wait, you turned off the commenting on _Ghost News_?” Abby asked. “I knew there was a reason I wasn’t getting notifications anymore..”

“Uh YEAH. I had to. Did you _see_ the shit people saying? Girl, they got real nasty. Real nasty…”

Abby sighed wistfully, “Frauds, charlatans, ‘Ghostbitches’…although that last one…could be a good name for our hip hop group. Erin and I do have a past life together as scientist-rappers. Right, Erin?”

Erin gave Abby a strange look. A hip hop group? Named ‘Ghostbitches?’ And was she really going to bring up their embarassing high school ghost rap right now? She’d press Abby about this later. “Yeah, don’t mind what some a-holes on the internet say.” She sneered at Abby, then looked back at Holtz.

“Ah, you’re right, it’s no big deal.” Holtzmann waved her hand, “I’ll see it multiple times myself anyway. You’re all invited.” 

It took something like an hour and a half, maybe even two hours, for their food to finally arrive, which by the way is TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE!!!!!!

Benny was apparently off that night. The delivery guy mixed up “Firehouse” with “Fierhaus”, a divey bar in Queens.

“No Wonton soup?” Erin gestured at the receipt that was stuck haphazardly on one of the paper bags.

“Wanted to change things up a bit.”

“You know what _I’d_ love to see again?” Erin started, trying to change the subject (did this really count as changing it if they had literally just been talking about movies), “TITANIC. IN 3D.”[4]

“Ya know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that one.” Holtzmann narrowed her eyes at Erin.

“Uve _mever_ sheen,” Erin and Abby gulped in the remaining bits of the food in their mouths, “Titanic?!”

“Nope!” Holtzmann grinned. “I, er, didn’t really watch that sort of thing. Too busy blowing things up and sort of almost getting arrested.”

She grabbed an egg roll and bit off a huge chunk. Then tried to launch and spin it like it was one of those bottles you juggle with, except with a fried wrapper instead of glass, and, well, all the filling comes out when you try to catch it but it slips out of your hand anyway and onto the floor. 

Patty shook her head. “Holtzy, I swear…” She handed her a napkin. 

Erin cringed. The carrot/bean sprout/ground pork/whatever mix slid into the ectoplasmic residue that came from their most recent metaphysical expedition.

“That was one good movie,” Abby said, apparently not nearly as disturbed by the sight of food mixing with what essentially was ghost vomit. Then again, with the state of (disrepair and disaster) of their old lab in the Higgins institute, it wouldn’t be too off the mark to assume she was used to that kind of sight.

“And young Leonardo DiCaprio was fine _as hell_.” Erin nodded in assent at Patty’s comment, but Abby looked…befuddled, to say the least. 

“…Him?” Abby said, burrowing her eyebrows.

“You’re _not_ into blondes with square jaws?”

“Uh, no? Erin, you’ve known me for almost 30 years now.” Abby frowned at Erin. “You should know what my type is by now!”

“Eh, not really my type, either,” Holtzmann winked at Erin.

A deep silence fell over the table. Erin picked at the remaining rice, musing over the apparition from today. The spirit had reportedly knocked over some rather expensive and rare antiquities held by the New York Historical Society. 

It seemed a fairly tame ghost from the accounts of the museum’s director. But when they arrived at the scene, it was clear the director had a tendency to understate things. The scene bore a striking resemblance to Holtz’s apartment. Or the disarray thereof, at least.

“YO! I THINK WE GOT MESSAGES!!”

Erin jumped in her seat, just barely stopping her drink from toppling. “Jesus, Patty!” 

Were they all competing to see who could shock her the most? With the poorly-timed munching of crisp items? Or with Abby’s _sneaking behind her and then yelling “BOO”_? And now, Patty was joining in, too?!

“Just…just play the messages.”

The first couple of messages was from a man whose voice had a frantic lilt to it. “Hello?! Is this the Ghostbusters?! God I hope you guys pick up soon!! My building is plagued by these fucking ghosts! The tenants are leaving in droves, even the ones I was going to evict anyway!” 

“Y’all these messages left over a week ago.”

They all exchanged knowing looks. “Kevin.”

“We really need to figure out a better system for this stuff.”

“And maybe have a uh, stern talking to with Kevin.”

“I got you,” Patty smirked. “I set up a contact form for us on the site in case this happened.”

“You did?” Abby was pleased.

“Niiiicce.”

“But,” Patty’s smile faded, her exasperation growing, “I didn’t really set it up until yesterday and, uh, we should really update the business cards.” She glanced at Erin’s direction, who in turn grimaced.

She was still giving out the old business cards, the ones that bore the old name. Which, by the way, was a fantastic name and more professional sounding than “Ghostbusters”. But anyway.

“Aw Erin, man. You been giving out the one with the URL only ants can read, haven’t you?” Patty frowned. “It’s not even the right one…”

“Sorry.”

_conductorsofthemetaphysicalexamination [dot] com_ was in fact typeset in really, really tiny font to accomodate for limited space on the business cards. Which Erin bought in bulk and didn’t want to see go to waste.

“Well, I-I thought somebody pointed that URL to the new site?”

Really, they still had 500 of those cards! What were they going to do with them? Make Christmas ornaments out of the cardstock? (Actually, that’s not a terrible idea. Little ghost ornaments). 

“Hold on, there’s one more message on voicemail.”

“Uh, hello, hi! I’m Mariam. How are ya? So uh, I hope I’m not being a bother to you all, but I’d like to report a ghost.”

The woman was unfailingly polite in her entire message, especially considering the apparation had terrified the kids in her elementary school. “They all took a jingle with their dingles and hoo-hahs, and some, well, let’s just say they got out a little more than that,” the woman giggled. How could someone be so cheery at a time like this?

“That lady sure was polite.” Patty looked impressed. “I couldn’t even get people to acknowledge my existence when I was a transit agent.”

“It’s a…” Abby started. 

“A Midwest thing,” Erin finished.

“How do you know this Mariam lady’s from the Midwest? I mean, yeah, her accent’s what I think of when I think ‘Midwest’. Kind of nasal with certain words, the politeness, but anyway…”

“Abby and I grew up in a suburban town in southern Michigan.”

“You could say we grew up around that kind of talking. Or next to it, since you mostly hear that the closer you get to Detroit. Say, Erin. Doesn’t Mariam’s voice remind you of our chem teacher senior year?”

“Oh my god, she does! She totally sounds like Mrs. Albright!”

“Uh, guys, I got some bad news.” Holtzmann had wandered over to the containment unit she’d been working on last month. The one, Erin remembered distinctly, that was of unstable grounding and could decimate anyone within a 50mi radius of the Firehouse if not dealt with properly.

Their stomachs all lurched. And it wasn’t entirely due to indigestion (or something close to food-poisoning). 

The Class VI entity they caught with the ghost trap that looked an awful like a bear trap ( _Trapper 4K_ , Holtzmann corrects) was not, in fact, contained in the containtment unit. 

“Well fuck me. That is some…fucking..shit.” 

Abby, Patty, and Holtzmann gave their best impressions of a deer caught in headlights, directing their gazes at Erin. She hardly ever uttered obscenities unless she was quoting someone or something, so the rare moments that she did out of her own accord always caught them by surprise.

“What? Why are you guys so quiet all of a sudden?”

Abby stepped back. “Wait, Holtzmann, didn’t you say the trap transported entities elsewhere? Did you ever figure out where that ‘elsewhere’ was?”

“Michigan.” Erin remembered their conversation a few weeks back. The trap that snapped up like a glowing jaw sat in front of her, as if to remind her.

“Ten points to Gilbert!” Holtzmann said in a faux British accent.

Patty cocked an eyebrow. “…Michigan?”

“That’s…super random.”

“Ladies,” Abby clapped her hands together. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She gave each of them a knowing nod.

“Take a dump?” Patty gulped, placed her hand on her stomach. “Seriously, I feel like I’m about to-”

Holtzy rushed to Patty’s side, rubbing her back. “Whoa whoa, take it easy, Patty, let’s get you to the bathroom.”

With Holtzmann and Patty headed away, Erin took Abby aside.

“Abby! I thought we agreed that we would only serve the NYC area? We just barely set up shop here, there’s still so much we have to do.”

“Erin, do you really think that freaking Sterling Heights is going to have a team of ghostbusters there?”

Okay, so that was a fair point.

“And even if they did, would they be as good as we are?”

Even muffled by the bathroom door, Patty’s voice still carried across the building. “Awww SHIT!!”

“Euch. Is Patty okay?” Erin glanced at the bathroom. 

Holtzmann ambled back to Abby and Erin.

Patty was not happy. Patty was not having a good time at all. “MY ASS IS ON FIRE!”

“She’ll be fine,” Holtz grinned, “just gotta let her do her thang.”

It would be 10 more excruciating minutes (both for she who needed to do her thang, and for those who listened to said thang), before Patty made it out alive.

* * *

  1. None of us were English majors.  ↩

  2. Maybe? We’re not sure. As mentioned previously, just before this footnote, in fact, none of us were really English majors. We all, save for Patty, managed to credit out or proficiency our asses out of the lower level liberal arts classes. Patty loves her some history, anthropology, and sociology, but stick her in an English class to discuss the homoerotic undertones of _Moby Dick_ and she’d rather be impaled by a harpoon covered in whale blood. Not that there’s anything wrong with homoerotic undertones, but those English majors took a bit too much from Freud for her comfort.  ↩

  3. Was this too concise a paragraph? Far too evocative of Hemingway, perhaps?  ↩

  4. It turns out that they did re-release Titanic. In 3D. But how was Erin supposed to know this? She was busy kissing (and kicking) ass in the academy. As her mentor at Princeton once told her, ABP. Always Be Publishing (papers in legitimate scientific journals, especially ones with high impact numbers).  ↩





End file.
